


Run and I will Chase You

by Gravity_Sun



Series: JayDick Week June 2016 [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravity_Sun/pseuds/Gravity_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1 - First Kiss</p><p>Or</p><p>The three times it didn't count, and the one time it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run and I will Chase You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Day 1 - First Kiss: Pretty self-explanatory, the kiss can take place before or after they start dating, as long as it’s their first (as in Dick and Jason’s first kiss together). It can be fluffy, intimate, or a mix of the two, just as long as it consists of the two of them kissing each other.

The first time is in the rain. Hot and slick. Covered in ash after a building blew and you both didn’t think you were going to make it out alive. You’d closed your eyes and blinked and there were lips on yours, hot and insistent, your head is spinning, ears still ringing, couldn’t be sure of who made the first move. When you pull apart, it’s back to business. There’s something like shame in his eye and and you pretend not to see it. Bury it down. It’s a weak moment, a loss of will where your adrenaline is pumping, better than any high and your blood is boiling. Afterward, you shut your eyes and count to five. When you open them, he’s gone.

The second time is messy. Bloody. You’re angry, been screaming for hours across the table and neither of you can remember about what. When he’s around your blood boils and your fingers clinch with the need to grab  _ something _ . Him, a weapon, the door knob,  _ something  _ tangible. Something you can squeeze between your hands, something that won’t break if you touch it. You hate this, hate these feelings. Know that it’s wrong. Remember you both have the same Father and he is your--

A vase shatters and you reach out to grab him before something else breaks apart and his lips are on yours. Slightly chapped from worrying at them, his hands in your hair, fingers and nails scratching along the scalp and God he tastes good. Like the cheap booze he was sipping earlier, mouth slightly spicy and he bites you, a little bit painful but the pleasure drowns it out. He kisses like he fights, with grace and power and intensity.

His skin is warm, and you try not to compare it to the last time because then that means you’ll start wondering about the next time and you can’t do that. Shut your eyes and cling to him as tightly as you can, arms worming around his chest, pulling him in so close you can feel his heart thudding against you.

You feel him withdraw before he even pulls his lips away. Feel the way his body makes the decision, muscles tensing breath catching. You see the look in his eye. The worry. What you hope isn’t regret. You want to tell him that it’s alright. That he doesn’t have to go, doesn’t have to run and then you won’t have to chase him but before you can get the words out he’s gone.

The third time, there are tears. There is a dark cloud over his head, over the world and so much has gone wrong at once and when you look up from maps and plans you realize he’s gone. Your feet move you before you even realize what you’re doing, and when you find him, hidden in the shadows of a stairwell, a light flickering above him, he has his head in his hands.

You let the door close behind you and move towards him.

He knows you’re here. Did before you even opened the door but he still won’t look up. Won’t meet your eyes and you know what he’s repeating in his head, over and over again.

Failure.

You want to tell him he’s not. That he’s the embodiment of perfection to you and that nothing he’s done in the past matters. That none of his ‘mistakes’ or ‘faults’ matter. You want to tell him a million things. Tell him about how you realized you were in love with him, years ago, and lay awake staring at the ceiling until the sun came up.

But you don’t.

Instead, you stand before him quiet and calm, and take his hands in yours. When he looks at your fingers and then at you in disbelief you lean up and kiss the tears off his cheeks. Kiss his swollen eyes and the tip of his nose, press a kiss to his lips that he  _ melts  _ into. Breathes out a groan and kisses you deeply.

In the end, you pull away. You don’t want this to be a weak moment. A regret down the line. A time when he was weak and vulnerable and you took advantage.

 

The fourth time, is by choice. You find him laying out in the manor garden in the day, sun warming his skin, casting shadows on his cheeks. The air is sweet and warm and when you stand over him, he opens his eyes and stares up at you. You’ve heard that love is like gravity, and you finally get it, as you bend down next to him and he pulls you in, and you both meet in the middle. He smells like chicory, lavender and lilac. He tastes like honeysuckle and it’s perfect. It’s so perfect that you’re lost in it, in him, and you don’t realize how long it’s been until you realize the sun is setting and your limbs are numb and the air is leaving a cold tingle on your skin.

This is right.  _ Feels  _ right. Feels like coming home, diving into warmth and safety. This matters. This is the beginning of everything. Not after the fear of death, or in rage, or from loss. You think of the times before, of the rain and the fight and the tears and you shut your eyes, and count to ten.

When you open them, he kisses you again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I wrote this in second person. It just came out that way. Anyway, yell at me if it's awful.


End file.
